


argentum

by aeonpathy



Series: put the sun in my hands [15]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bad Flirting, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Language, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonpathy/pseuds/aeonpathy
Summary: Talk about bad timing, really. He just had a meal last night. It seems like Mark has caught onto what he’s looking at, bringing the hem of his shirt to wipe at his neck and face.That piece of shit,Donghyuck thinks,always thinks he’s slick as fuck.Jeez. Get a load of this guy.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: put the sun in my hands [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1128143
Comments: 4
Kudos: 120





	argentum

**Author's Note:**

> i ain't got a clue do not ask

Donghyuck can’t see the moon. The indoor basketball court has all the lights on, a big contrast to the night that lies outside. Everyone had left minutes ago, too sweaty and hungry to continue playing. The only people left are him and Mark. Donghyuck cranes his neck to glance out multiple windows, long, semi-thin glass panes that border right under the ceiling. Where’s the moon? He can’t see shit from where he’s sitting.

_Thump, thump, thump._ The sound of a basketball being dribbled comes from the other side of the court. One of the lights momentarily stutters. There’s a mysterious, dark stain on the steps of the bleachers. The nets on the hoops are pristinely white. The smell of sweat clouds the room. Donghyuck hears Mark’s breathing sync up with the basketball.

He turns to look, and when he does, Mark is staring back at him. He hates how Mark watches him, knows when he’s looking at him like an owl in the night, silently. The ball keeps bouncing. Donghyuck’s left leg starts to. Mark only smiles at him and turns back to work on his form.

Vampires don’t need to breathe, but Mark does it anyways. It’s a reminder of his humanity, and Donghyuck doesn’t mention it. They all try to cope, digging their nails onto everything they can hold onto before their humanity bleeds down the drain. It’s why they’re playing basketball. Well, Mark still is. Donghyuck likes to watch.

The moon is still nowhere in sight, so Donghyuck stands up and wanders the sidelines, looking through every window to catch a glimpse. Nothing. Just the winter air outside, the cold waiting to embrace him. He hears the _whoosh_ of a basketball flying towards him, and he catches it without even looking and absentmindedly tosses it back to Mark. 

“Thanks, Hyuckie.”

Donghyuck flips him off and knows Mark sees it because that asshole only giggles, going back to dribbling the ball. _Thump, thump, thump._ If Donghyuck still had his human heart, he figures it would beat the same. Mark has always liked calling him cute names.

He gives up on finding the moon. When they leave, he’ll search for it then. Donghyuck flips one of the light switches off, and the court dims. Vampires can see perfectly fine in the dark. There’s no need for all these lights. He can hear Mark humming. Donghyuck sits down on the first row of benches and scrolls through his phone, replying back to messages. He even almost orders new clothes, a whopping seven tabs open, but decides against it and shuts his phone off.

Mark’s humming _Officially Missing You._ He shoots his shot and misses the hoop. Donghyuck can’t stop the laugh that comes out of his mouth. Mark rolls his eyes and jogs to retrieve the ball.

“Hey, what time did you want to head back?” he asks, pushing sweaty strands of hair off his forehead. His pale skin has a sheen to it too, and Donghyuck’s brain betrays him by focusing on that rather than the question.

“Whenever ya want,” he says. He doesn’t miss the way Mark swallows, and doesn’t miss the way he feels his mouth parch at the sight. Talk about bad timing, really. He just had a meal last night. It seems like Mark has caught onto what he’s looking at, bringing the hem of his shirt to wipe at his neck and face. _That piece of shit,_ Donghyuck thinks, _always thinks he’s slick as fuck._

Jeez. Get a load of this guy.

“I don’t wanna make you wait,” Mark says, “I can’t read your mind, baby.”

Donghyuck’s eyes zero in on him. Mark keeps bouncing the ball, waiting for him to answer. _Thump, thump, thump._ An insect outside buzzes. One of the stars twinkle. Donghyuck has never decked someone before, but he considers it if it means it’ll get that shit-eating smile off Mark’s face. Their eyes meet. Mark stares at him with a certain intensity Donghyuck can never pinpoint. It’s like he’s testing him to do something, but also inviting him to come closer. A feisty mantis shrimp ready to knock his ass out. A pretty nudibranch who seems harmless enough.

Which one is it?

His metal earring glints, even with the dim light. Donghyuck becomes a magpie, blinking at the chain dangling from Mark’s ear. He walks over to the bench and crouches down in front of Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s hand reaches out and traces the scar on Mark’s jaw, his thumb prods at the corner of Mark’s mouth, the part where Mark insists he has a hidden mole, and pokes at the fading bruises and healing punctures on his neck. Mark hisses and grips his wrist harshly, swinging Donghyuck’s hand away. He looks back up. His eyes are tinged with a glowing yellow and Donghyuck grins. “M’not in any rush,” Donghyuck hums, “so we can be here for as long as you want.”

Mark still has his wrist in some vice-lock grip. Tight enough to leave a bright red bruise, a hot-iron brand, a claim. Donghyuck doesn’t know if he likes it or not. If anything, he might _love_ it.

“You hungry?” Mark asks, letting go of his wrist and standing up. His hand twists Donghyuck’s head up by the jaw and Donghyuck’s fangs pop out. Mark bares his fangs back at him, sneering. “Asking you a question, Hyuck, what’s got your tongue all tied up?”

He’s not. But he knows that Mark is. He knows because Mark hasn’t fed for a week, too busy with balancing school with work with family with friends, too happy hanging Christmas decorations around the house (Mark made sure there was a mistletoe hanging on their bedroom door), and he knows because Mark gets antsy, always needing the urge to hold something in his hands to distract himself. Donghyuck glares at him before saying, “You’re really gonna ask me that when you’re the one eyeing my neck? You’re funny.”

Mark falters for a moment and pouts. Donghyuck wants to laugh at how absurd this situation seems, the way Mark does a complete one-eighty within seconds. He’s cute. Donghyuck loves that about him. 

“Well,” Donghyuck sighs, standing up as well. “Sit down.”

Mark stills before complying. He sits down, slowly, looking at Donghyuck through his pretty lashes. Donghyuck grazes the metal chain of the earring.

He's got him right where he wants him, an all-too-slick-be-mine deal breaker whose pearly whites poke the plush of the rosiest pinks. Sinners wear silver, but silver kills, they both know that, and if it doesn't kill, then it _burns_ tenfold. Donghyuck knows that silver likes it that way because it doesn't know any better. Stainless steel, however, is faux enough. Cold to the touch, like them. Strong, just like them. Shiny, too. Mark's a gem in a museum and he's the thief, eyes on the prize, priceless. He wonders if the wooden bleachers would be good enough. They're solid, and it's the nearest thing that can display such beauty. Show-and-tell, press him against the bench until his heart decides to jumpstart and somehow make him human, same difference.

The only thing here is that when Mark tugs at his shirt, wants him closer, legs wrapped around making him prisoner, his fangs throb. His pupils shrink. The vein on his neck pulsates. Mark looks at it with interest, with his utmost attention. His eyes are a rich tuscany now, pupils constricting the more he stares.

Vampires don’t normally feed on other vampires. Blood from vampires isn’t as fulfilling as human or animal blood, and it tastes slightly bitter, but it definitely helps in emergency situations. Yet, this is no emergency. This is desperation laced with want, desire, the intent of _more._

“Look at you,” Donghyuck says softly, rubbing Mark’s pale cheek gingerly. “You’re gonna feed. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. You look like you’re about to collapse, seriously.”

Mark swallows out of instinct. “But—”

“Man, what did I just say,” he groans, falling into Mark’s lap. He bares his neck and he feels Mark’s breath, warm and damp. He tries not to shudder. Mark's hand goes under his jaw and rests right above his windpipe. He pushes up suddenly, and Donghyuck scrambles to steady himself. But they’re vampires. Reflexes are their thing.

Hesitation rolls off of his boyfriend in waves, and Donghyuck’s fed up. No pun intended, either, because he’s actually going to deck him now. “Oh my fuckin—”

Mark sinks in.

This is no average run-of-the-mill, a simpleton with fumbling hands when Mark's got the venom of a serpent trying to wrap around whatever warmth Donghyuck’s got, who's all sluggish and too punch-drunk off the feeling, eyes rolling into the back of his head. What Donghyuck knows is sunken six feet into the ground and, pathetically so, he _loves_ it, the pain and the tears, a sob ripping out of his dry throat, and he's practically rolling around in his grave because this is it, _this_ is the best it'll get.

Eyes heavy, the court is quiet, all but panting and the bounce of a basketball rolling off into some dingy corner. Something's telling him to look at the ceiling, and the lights are so fuckin' bright it's messing with his already hazy head. When he comes to, he submits.

All he feels is bliss, the pain gone. Donghyuck lets out tiny huffs, too caught up with the hands on him and fangs in him and Mark, _oh fuck,_ Mark’s all over him, all around him. 

But Mark doesn’t take more than what he needs. He pulls away about fifteen seconds later, lapping up the excess blood and holes on Donghyuck’s neck until they start to shrink. It stings a little. Donghyuck breathes, even though he really has no need to. Mark licks his lips and presses small kisses all over his neck. His eyes are back to brown.

“Shit,” Mark eventually croaks out. “That was...good.”

“Huh,” Donghyuck says, patting Mark’s head. He stands up, a little lightheaded, and stretches. It’s darker outside now. The basketball is nowhere in sight. They both still smell gross. 

Mark pulls him back down onto his lap and tickles him. “Wait, ah, s-stop, you asshole, that tickles!”

“M’bad, I should’ve used one of the bags we got in the fridge,” Mark sighs, nosing Donghyuck’s collarbone. Mark gets clingy after he feeds, big baby, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind. He never has.

“Ready to go home then? We gotta shower and you have to eat.”

They start packing up their things, their speed making the process faster. The basketball, Donghyuck finds it in a corner Mark had rolled it into. He yells for Mark, tossing that thing so fucking hard it travels to the opposite end of the court with a blur. Mark still catches it.

The indoor court looks the same. The wooden floor is polished shiny, save for a few streaks from dirty shoes. All of the basketballs are on the rack, even that ugly neon blue one that sticks out like a sore thumb. A true sight for the eyes. Mark has a fluffy purple towel draped over his head. Cute.

Once Mark has all the lights off and Donghyuck makes sure that the metal doors lock behind them, the cold air nips at their skin. They walk to the only car parked in the lot. When he looks up, the moon floats right above him. He snuggles into Mark’s side.

Mark holds him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> tbf this was not what i originally planned to write
> 
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